


These Broken-Hearted Beats

by Grimmseye



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Background Buddy/Vespa, Gen, If I tag more it's gonna spoil the premise, Just about all the relationship combos are here but most aren't QUITE prominent enough to be tagged, Multi, Other, Team as Family, carte blanche crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29327355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmseye/pseuds/Grimmseye
Summary: Don’t —!”A gasp crackled over the feed. Buddy leaned in towards the screen. She could see through Juno’s goggles, see Ransom standing upright and frowning at him, face wary, guarded.“Juno,”he breathed. Confused. Hurt.Buddy locked eyes with Rita. “Vespa, what’s going on?”The response came out quiet, like she didn’t believe the words as they came out of her mouth:“Steel pulled a gun on Ransom.”
Relationships: Carte Blanche Crew - Relationship, Jet Sikuliaq & Juno Steel, Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 18
Kudos: 129





	These Broken-Hearted Beats

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "No Hands" by Attica Riots. Not for any particular reason beyond I was listening to the song a lot between writing sessions. 
> 
> All content is canon-typical, however, warnings will be posted in the end notes.

Her shadows triple as she runs. The lamps that frame the halls stream out like runway lights to her flight, casting a sheer white glow upon endless metal halls. Another, larger form flanks hers, always just a step behind, a protective force at her back. 

Vespa grabs Sikuliaq’s arm a half-second before she turns, yanking him into a branch in the wall. From behind, she can hear  _ him _ approach, the rapid, thudding footsteps and then a  _ slam _ as a shoulder hits the wall, no sound of pain, just boots reasserting themselves on the floor to change direction. 

Neither of them wait, don’t bother hiding, but they keep their steps soft as they make their way to the next branch of cover. She doesn’t dare test a door — too noisy. No, she risks the stretch to the next corner, rounding it and praying they get out of sight in time. 

The noise had cut, the pounding that had chased them gone. The lights come to their end, here, a dark hallway casting them in pure shadow. Vespa scans their new branch for an open door, shifting down the corridor with Sikuliaq at her side. 

The sound of his voice makes her heart skip.

_ “Calculations: targets’ speed inadequate to cross the length of corridor: 3-C-A.”  _

Nausea wells in her stomach. By the tension at her side, Sikuliaq is no better off. 

It’s  _ sick.  _ That  _ thing,  _ layered under his voice, his tone and his inflection but not  _ him _ . 

_ “Conclusion: targets fled along the right hand corridor. Visual scan for footprints, fingerprints —” _

She doesn’t let it finish before tugging Sikuliaq along, skirting door after door after god-damned door until she finds  _ one  _ of them left ajar. It’s just another turn among millions of turns. They won’t be able to run forever, but it’s that or take a shot in the spine. 

Sikuliaq slips through first and, as she tries to block out the words that drone behind her, Vespa follows him into the dark.

-

Juno was quiet on the drive to the lighthouse. Jet did not think that was too unusual. He passed in and out of consciousness, painkillers to treat the emptiness in his skull leaving his voice slurred when he spoke. The hours that wound through the clinic brought them to sunset, a stark blue arcing in a cone above the horizon and fading to gray. 

Buddy and Vespa were sitting at the bar when he strode in, Juno held in his arms. Vespa whipped on him, eyes alight until Buddy set a hand on her shoulder, murmuring something. As she did, her gaze fell on Juno, then found Jet’s. He could see the concern in her face. 

Like this, Juno was softer and more vulnerable than he would ever like to be. Limp and ashen-faced, a thick bandage plastered over one eye. Jet did not like it either. Strangely, in the few days since they’d met, they had both grown fond of Juno Steel. 

That was dangerous. But it was not necessarily bad. 

Jet offered a single nod to let Buddy relax. She taped on a smile and called, “There’s a room ready for him, dearest one, and dinner for both of you.” 

“Thank you,” Jet nodded, turning to carry him up to bed.

Buddy joined him in time, coming upon him where he sat at Juno’s bedside. She had a plate in her hand, the dinner he’d neglected.

“Was he successful?” Buddy asked him. She’d been to the clinics before, and she knew what he believed. She had witnessed it for herself, even. It had surprised both of them at the time that her experience had neglected Vespa’s memory, instead pulling her back to the day of her mother’s arrest, taken to the very prison her father guarded. 

Was it just some knowledge in her head, or in the universe itself, that knew her grief would find an end? He did not know, but he took the belief in hand and folded it tight, tucking it away to be found on the days where sense was lost.

“I am not sure yet,” Jet admitted. “But in the meantime, I have chosen to believe he has. Juno has shown tenacity in the face of death before.”

“Despite his record,” Buddy smiled. “Contradictory, isn’t he? But then, aren’t we all? My own exception aside.” She gave a two-beat laugh, and Jet exhaled his amusement. Buddy patted his shoulder, sayig,. “I will make some tea for you, darling, and then I think it is time for bed. Do let me know if you need me.”

“Of course.”

And soon Jet was alone, a mug held between his hands, steam curling over his nose each time he took a drink. Scalding hot and sharp as gasoline, he did not drink for enjoyment, but for the sensation it provided: moments taken pondering the heat, how it just edged into pain, the contrast of bitter liquid and the collection of crystals within it that did not make the drink sweet, but existed as their own experience alongside it. 

It was foul, of course, but he could tolerate it. He had learned how. Just as he tolerated this: the careful eye on the blanket over Juno’s chest, making sure it rose and fell with each uneven breath. The tingling nerves that made him crave a bag he no longer owned instead brought the mug to his lips, another pour of bitter and sweet to tamp the impulse down. 

The minutes stretched long and thin before Juno roused. It was a catch of his breath and then a soft groan, and Jet leaned over him as Juno began to stir. His one eye opened, still glazed as he mumbled a noise,  _ “Nurrryvv..” _

“Hello, Juno.” 

Clarity snapped into his face. Juno startled upwards, then groaned, grabbing at his head. His eye, specifically, or the bandage that covered its empty socket. “Hey big guy,” he sighed, slumping backwards. His gaze flicked about the room, dark save for the lights that beamed in from the province below. Martian nights were pitch black without fellow humans, their moons miniscule in size. It was only the light of a place made home that illuminated the desert at night.

Juno stared out the window, one eye squinting and flickering. “Where’d we go?” He asked. 

“We are in the Cerberus Province,” Jet told him. “Buddy has provided you with a room while you are recovering. The surgery was successful.” He paused. “Were you?”

Juno stared at him, stared  _ through  _ him. Jet had allowed himself to hope, and would not regret that — but sometimes he could see the temptation in the Juno Steel perspective on life. Would it hurt less, if he believed from the start Juno would not survive? Perhaps. Perhaps not. 

And when Juno nodded, Jet knew he’d been right to hope. 

“Some people find it is helpful to speak of their experiences,” Jet told him. His friend, with the family farm. Buddy, in her childhood home. He himself had never undergone the procedure, though a piece of him wondered what he would see. 

“Maybe… Not — not now, though. Later,” Juno mumbled. 

“Very well. Are you hungry? There is food we can heat up.” 

“No — no,” Juno grimaced, hand going to his stomach. “Water, maybe?” 

Jet handed him a glass of water. Juno moved slowly to take it, his hand wavering until Jet led him to the cup. Juno grimaced, but did not complain.

Halfway through the glass, Juno spoke again, a tentative note in his voice. It was the kind of sound that said he was asking a different question than the one he voiced. 

“Is there anyone you wished you’d said goodbye to?” 

It made Jet pause. He brought his tea to his lips — uncomfortably cool by now — and took a long drink to give himself time to ponder this. Then he said, “I believe that the only person who might qualify for that is Buddy Aurinko. Should there ever come a time where the two of us must part ways, I have no intention of doing so without a farewell.” 

“Really?” Juno leaned forward. “There’s no one else? But you only met Buddy a few years ago, right?”

“That is correct. However, prior to meeting Buddy I lacked relationships with depth. There was no person I would truly have considered family before then.” 

“Huh.” Juno nodded. “That sounds kinda nice.” A pause. Then, “Not about you, uh, not having… relationships, just, you know, not  _ regretting  _ — cause there’s a lot of people I didn’t say goodbye to, you know, people I just walked out on and that’s not fair to them. Some of them were taken from me, and maybe that should have taught me to say goodbye — Alessandra, and Rita and …” He trailed off, then heaved a sigh as he slumped into the pillows. 

Buddy’s notes on Juno Steel had been accurate. Surprisingly eloquent, he spoke like his thoughts were a soliloquy, and Jet couldn’t quite tell if he was being spoken to or spoken  _ at. _

“Dwelling on the past does not do us any good,” Jet said. When Juno scowled, he held up a hand. “That is not to say you should be capable of changing how you feel. There are certain things we will always regret. However, rather than an obstacle, let them serve as a reminder. If you regret not saying goodbye, then remember that: so that you will either bid the proper farewell, or hold onto those you would think to leave.”

Juno inclined his head, a bobbing sort of nod. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Thanks, big guy.”

“There is no need to thank me.”

Jet kept an eye as Juno began to drift off again. He took the glass from Juno’s grip, setting it safely on the nightstand before it could fall. When the blankets were pulled up comfortably, and Juno’s breathing had deepened into sleep, Jet rose to leave. He could sleep soundly, now, knowing he would see Juno alive come morning. 

\- 

_ “Don’t —!”  _

A gasp crackled over the feed. Buddy leaned in towards the screen. She could see through Juno’s goggles, see Ransom standing upright and frowning at him, face wary, guarded. 

_ “Juno,” _ he breathed. Confused. Hurt. 

Buddy locked eyes with Rita. “Vespa, what’s going on?”

The response came out quiet, like she didn’t believe the words as they came out of her mouth:  _ “Steel pulled a gun on Ransom.”  _

-

Rita  _ isn’t _ allowed to cry right now. 

The captain paces, a hand folded over her mouth. Her uncovered eye is wide. Behind her hair, Rita can hear a rapid  _ clickclickclick,  _ a camera lens shuttering in panic. 

She hugs herself, tight.  _ You gotta calm down, Rita,  _ she says, in her head because she’s breathing too fast to get a real word out.  _ You’ve done it before, you can do it again.  _

She remembers a city crawling. Human beings turned into a hive. It turns out that things that were exciting in the streams weren’t so fantastic in real life, but she’d already known that. Shooting people dead wasn’t something to cheer for. Jet Sikuliaq’s murder of fifteen people on Jupiter isn’t dramatic — it’s just nauseating. Even if she still loves him. 

She’s watched a lot of shows like this, clapped and cheered and cried at all the best moments. She’d lived through it once. And that was  _ supposed  _ to be it, but the panic is clawing up inside of her again, the memory of a sharp gaze and a blank face and the end of everything if she couldn’t —

The Captain turns to her, and Rita realizes she must have made a noise. Her image is blurry with the tears Rita couldn’t hold back, though she scrubs her eyes on her sleeve.

“Rita…” Buddy breathes. She clears her throat and straightens up, muttering to herself,  _ “Get ahold of yourself, Aurinko.”  _ In a clipped tone, she says, “Well, this is hardly ideal _.  _ You and… Juno… you seemed to recognize what was happening.” 

Rita snaps her head in a nod. She gulps a few breaths before saying, “You were the ones who helped Mistah Steel get that weird eye out of his head, right? The Theia-whatsit.” Captain A is barely nodding before Rita plows on, “Well there’s a whole line of those creepy gidgets. And — and — when Mistah Steel got back home… They’re called the Theia  _ Soul.”  _

-

It was the reference that caught her eye when she was going over Peter Ransom’s resume. Not his own name, nor the impressive list of skills — so extensive she might be tempted to call a bluff — but the singular name listed to verify it all:  _ Juno Steel.  _

She found herself smiling despite herself. What a small galaxy it was. 

The detective named Juno Steel was closer to the top of her list of potential crewmates, though he certainly hadn’t submitted an application. Sharpshooter, quick thinker, an eye for small details and the ability to piece them together — not to mention he had mugged the president of Venus a few years back. The only sticky bits were that he was, technically, a man of the law. Working with a politician, no less, if Jet’s reconnaissance was to be trusted, and she  _ knew  _ it was. 

This was promising, though. If Juno Steel had a record with a… master of disguise, stealth and deception, pickpocket, contortionist, man capable of memorizing floor plans and schematics with photographic accuracy, with experience in assassination, burglary, reconaissance, working undercover, having hit private mansions and castles and prisons and banks — 

Well, perhaps Juno Steel would be willing to at least consider her offer, if an old coworker was on her team. 

Digging into Ransom was difficult, impressively so.  _ Worryingly  _ so. And yet, it suggested that this Peter Ransom could be trustworthy indeed, with his pattern of pro- and con-bono, the former always followed by the latter. What a fascinating man, to correct himself for having a heart. 

A heart he still held onto within the last year, at the very least, or certainly he wouldn’t be so foolish as to list Detective Juno Steel as his only reference. One phone call and a few well-placed questions would tell her exactly how well the two worked together. As far as she could tell, Juno Steel was a moral compass that would shout you down if the needle turned too far. 

Jet seemed more perturbed by such a gamble, but ceded to her judgement. And soon Buddy was leaning back, a bottle of peach schnapps in one hand and comms in the other. It pinged once, twice —

_ “Hello?”  _

He didn’t introduce himself. It wasn’t exactly incriminating, but certainly worth a note. “Hello, Peter Ransom, is it?” 

_ “Speaking.”  _

“Lovely. This is Buddy Aurinko.”

_ “Captain Aurinko!”  _ A note of excitement entered his voice — not entirely faked, by her best judgement.  _ “It is a delight and an honor to be speaking with you. Is this in regards to my…?” _

“Application, yes. You are  _ quite  _ a qualified individual, Mister Ransom. Some might say overqualified, as a matter of fact.”

_ “Well I —”  _

“But those people are not here, and so do not influence the conversation at hand. Tell me, Mister Ransom, do you have anyone who can testify to your work?” 

_ “I believe I attached my reference to the page.” _ His voice came out hesitant. 

“Yes, indeed. A Detective Juno Steel? Is he your only reference?” 

A pause, extended. Then,  _ “He is the most qualified individual to speak on me on both a personal and professional level.” _

“You’re friends, then?”

_ “Something of the sort.”  _

“Well would you care to enlighten me as to what that something is?” 

His voice drew out, before settling on,  _ “Partners. Of convenience. We do not hold regular conversation — indeed I have not spoken with Juno —”  _ He stammered,  _ “W-with Detective Steel — since our last job together. However, on all of our jobs together we have been compatible and efficient partners, despite our… differences. By the end of our last job together, I would say we were… friendly.”  _

“I see.” Buddy carefully stripped any implication out of her tone. “Lovely, thank you darling. That will be all.”

_ “Ah — Captain Aurinko?” _

“Yes, Ransom?” 

_ “Does this mean that I… did  _ not _ stand to expectations?”  _ His tone was measured, but he couldn’t quite erase that note of concern.

Buddy hummed. “That remains to be seen. If things swing in your favor, I’ll be in touch. But, ta-ta for now.” 

_ “Well —” _

She closed the line before he could get a word out. 

Buddy finished her bottle as she reflected on the conversation, replaying it a few times over before lifting her comms again. “Dearest one? I believe we should be keeping a closer eye on Detective Steel. There’s something very promising here.” 

-

They haven’t been able to shake him. Once he’d gotten so close —  _ so close  _ to Vespa, one of those chips pinched between his fingers, strands of flesh and nerves still dripping from it like macabre roots. Then Jet shot him in the leg. 

It’s just a graze, but blood spurts from the slice, makes him buckle to his knees. Jet drags Vespa away, telling himself to ignore her thrashing, the “He’s going to  _ bleed out,  _ damn it! Sikuliaq put me  _ down,  _ I’m the  _ god damn  _ doctor and he’s going to  _ die —”  _

“ — Evaluation: cauterize wound, then pursue targets and apply Theia Soul.” 

A beat later there’s the pain, an extended cry and the smell of burning flesh that wrenches Jet’s stomach. Vespa doesn’t protest any longer. They need to gain all the ground available to them. 

“Vespa,” Jet grunts, “If that happens again,  _ leave me behind.”  _

“Like  _ hell _ I’m —” 

_ “Vespa.”  _ Maybe it’s his tone, the crack in his voice, the fear seeping through, but she quiets. Jet pulls in a breath, says, “If  _ I  _ am turned… you know how to handle me. I am strong, yes, but you will always see me coming.  _ You  _ will drop down upon us one by one, and we will be  _ through.  _ Do you understand?”

She does. She  _ hates  _ it, he can see that, but he knows she understands. So long as Buddy is safe — so long as that  _ thing  _ is on their heels and far away from the others, Vespa can be pragmatic. She sets her jaw and keeps running, and Jet refuses to look back. 

-

Vespa had nearly vetoed the idea. It was only Buddy’s look over Rita’s head that kept her quiet — that soft, pleading thing, the one that said  _ play nice  _ and that worked far more effectively on Vespa than her Captain Voice ever did. 

She still hated these stream specials. 

Buddy seemed endlessly amused by it all:  _ Buddy and Vespa,  _ the screen declared, set in sharp, neon letters that would fit the sign atop a dance bar. The actress playing her couldn’t hold a candle — the voice was all wrong, attempts at being  _ charming  _ coming off annoying or mean. They replaced her keen mind and quick wit with a pretty face and a gun in a thigh holster — and  _ yeah _ , Buddy had both of those, and Vespa loved every piece of her, but there was so much  _ more.  _

She nearly hurled the popcorn bowl at the screen when  _ Vespa  _ came on camera. 

“That is  _ not  _ Vespa,” Steel gaped. 

Buddy’s amusement turned to a grimace. “Not at  _ all.  _ Oh my.” 

Long, turquoise hair, wearing a  _ gown  _ and  _ high heels.  _ She hiked up her skirt to pull a knife from a sheath pushed nearly to her panties, thighs layered in fishnets. 

_ “What?”  _ Juno clutched at his hair, while Ransom breathed, “Unbe _ liev _ able.”

Vespa slumped back in her chair, dead-eyed. Around her, they watched in a terse silence, hands over mouths, eyes locked on the screen. When the character spoke — something lilting and breathy, outrage flew across their faces. 

Rita flapped her hands in the air, the picture of anxiety. “I am so sorry Miss Vespa, I didn’t realize,” she gasped. “This one was a  _ lot  _ better before I, you know. Knew you.”

Vespa growled, and Rita gave a soft whine as she hid against Jet’s side. Buddy would be upset if she left, right? So, just, sit for another  _ hour  _ and wait for the shitshow to be over. 

At least it was easier to watch the family instead of the garbage on the screen. Every time the character Vespa did much of _anything,_ the reaction was visceral. Even Jet was practically glowering, Juno looking like he was about to rip his hair out at the roots. When the character Vespa was taken hostage, a damsel in distress for the stream’s Buddy to save, Juno cussed and chucked his popcorn at the screen. 

Vespa smiled. 

“That wouldn’t happen!” Juno yelled. “That —  _ WHAT?”  _

Ransom looked like he’d smelled something foul — his own breath, maybe. When character Vespa was freed by character Buddy, only for one high-heel to break and send her to the floor, there was an uproar: Juno leaping to his feet, both hands clutching his head, Rita holding her own face with eyes bulging behind her fingers, all while Nureyev slumped back and gaped. Even Buddy was affected, curled in on herself and pinching the bridge of her nose. 

Amid the chaos, Jet simply took the remote and paused the stream. “I believe that is enough,” he stated. 

A collective breath was released. 

Vespa’s lips were twitching. And then — she laughed. A deep, throaty chuckle, grinning as she covered her face with a hand. When too many eyes landed on her, she quieted down, clearing her throat and glaring around. A blush tinged her ears. “What are you looking at?” She bit out. 

Rita, Steel, and Ransom glanced away. Vespa snorted, then said in a softer, grating voice, “You just looked so stupid, getting all defensive like that. It’s just a dumb stream.” 

“A stream that was relatively insulting to you, love,” Buddy pointed out. 

“Yeah, I mean —” Juno faltered when Vespa glared at him, but cleared his throat to continue, “It was just…  _ wrong.  _ Like — if anyone  _ actually _ grabbed you like that, they’d have a knife in their kidney in  _ seconds.”  _

“And they should be too scared to  _ try  _ in the first place!” Rita cried. 

“Not to mention it was completely inaccurate,” Ransom sniffed. “The  _ actual _ heist had Vespa playing an integral role. Without her ability to instantaneously incapacitate the caesar of Laverna  _ alive,  _ Buddy never would have been able to — pardon — ransom for the crown. Without her, the entire thing falls apart! And they can’t even blame lack of information because this heist was streamed  _ live,  _ even on Bra —” 

He went quiet. 

Vespa stared. Buddy hid a smirk behind a hand. 

Juno broke the silence with a, _“Wow.”_ A smile crept across his face. “You _really_ had a crush on them, didn’t you, Ransom?”

Color flared in his cheeks. “I did  _ not,”  _ he insisted. “I harbor a  _ professional respect  _ for my fellow thieves, that is all!” 

“Is that so? Shame?” Buddy quipped. “I would be happy to provide an autograph, and perhaps even my Vespa could be convinced if you ask nicely.” 

He dropped his face into his hands, standing perfectly still while quiet chuckles filled the room. “The only thing I will be requesting of Vespa,” he grumbled, “is whether she would do me the favor of shooting me out the airlock should I provide an adequate excuse.” 

Vespa eyed him over, then smirked. “Sorry, Ransom. Today’s your unlucky day. Now can we find something  _ worth  _ watching?”

Rita leaped to the occasion, and Vespa sighed as she leaned back into Buddy. “They’re so stupid,” she muttered, up into Buddy’s ear.

Lips pressed to her forehead, curved in a smile. 

-

“Rita: progress?” 

She’s trying to be patient. Hurrying Rita won’t  _ actually  _ make her work any faster, Buddy knows that. And yet she counts the seconds, every moment her family is still in peril playing out in front of her. 

“I’m almost there,” Rita assures her, and bless her for that. She’s more level-headed than Buddy would have expected. But then, Rita’s seen this before, hasn’t she?

_ Oh, Juno.  _

They hadn’t even known what they were sending him to, all that time ago. Down an eye and coming home to a city changed —  _ that _ was what pushed him into her family. 

Rita jumps, waving her over excitedly. “I’ve almost got it, Captain A! And —  _ yes!”  _

The terminal pings, and the screens flare to life. There are hundreds of them, dizzying to take in. The entire room is a hive and the screens are its honeycomb. Rita takes a few more seconds typing, saying, “Miss-Captain Aurinko, can you watch screen 1-11-D for me please?”

She counts eleven across and four down on the first wall. Rita taps something, and then asks, “Anything?”

Buddy shakes her head. “... No. Not that I can see.”

“Door wall, eleven across, four down?”

“Yes, Rita.”

Rita shrinks in on herself. “Oh no,” she mutters. Then she shakes her head. “Okay! I’m just going to try again! The door  _ should  _ close. In three, two, one —”

Nothing. 

Rita’s lip wobbles. 

“Rita, dear,” Buddy sets a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “It’s alright. This is more than enough. Maybe it’s not quite the advantage we were hoping for, but it is still a boon, and one you earned us.” 

Rita gulps in several breaths, nodding. She sniffs and says, “Yeah, yeah you’re right, Captain. Let’s just look for everyone. At least we’ll be safer together, right?”

“Right. Can you work on the comms jammer, now?”

Rita gives a sharp nod, teary eyes going hard. She’s a determined little thing. Hardier than any of them expected — except for Juno, of course. He only ever smiled when Rita pulled these feats, fierce pride in his eyes. Did he even understand what he’d found himself? Probably not. But he loved her all the same.

Buddy turns her eyes to the screen, combing her hair back for a full view. Walls and ceiling, all were  _ layered  _ in screen after screen. All she can do is turn, and turn, and look for any sign of her — 

She gasps. “Rita! I see them!” 

-

Rita didn’t much like talking about herself. Well, no, she did! She was pretty great, after all, but when you started tipping back a certain number of years things got a little bit weird and a little bit sad but not really all that  _ exciting,  _ and Mistah Steel knew about all that of course, they went  _ way  _ back, but he was the only one, and that was how Rita liked it. 

She used to hate being underestimated, but it was kinda fun, now, always catching the baddies off guard. When the going got tough and the whole family needed saving, it was  _ Rita  _ to the rescue. She even flew under the nose of Captain A and all the rest. 

It was weird, really! They were all so focused on Mistah-not-Nureyev that they didn’t seem to realize they didn’t know  _ her  _ full name, either, or her past, or much of anything about her that didn’t involve Mistah Steel. Which was just the same as Mistah Ransom. 

She wondered if it meant she was going to take them by surprise again, or if Mistah Ransom was when they realized it wasn’t all that big of a deal. 

Captain A was open about certain things, and so was Jet. A display of trust, she said, when she told them about her mother and her father and things that were  _ so so sad  _ that even Miss Vespa got misty-eyed about it. It wasn’t a required thing, just a conversation on a late night after a hard job when they’re all still shaky and tired and laying out across the couches. 

So apparently they were talking about parents this night. 

Mistah Jet’s was no happier — maybe there was something about criminals having real sad histories. Bad homes or bad parents, no money, no safety, no love. She wanted to give every single one of them a great big hug. 

See, Rita didn’t have one of those. Her dad passed when she was just a little Rita, sure, but that was the worst of it. Her mom was busy growing up, and they weren’t super  _ duper  _ close like she was with Mistah Steel and Mistah Jet and Miss Captain Aurinko and all of them, but she had her mom and she loved her mom. Franny, too. She struggled in school and struggled in work and sometimes it made her pretty gosh darn sad, but that got better when she started working for Mistah Steel. 

And she’d heard  _ Mistah Steel’s  _ story too many times. She’d been there when it all went wrong, she saw him through the years and years after. But it was different tonight when he piped up, soft, “My mom killed my twin brother.”

A hush fell. Mistah Ransom reached out, took Juno’s hand. His own face was written with surprise, but he was silent as Juno spoke: spoke about North Star, about his mom, about Ramjack O’Takano, about things even Rita only barely knew.

“It was  _ supposed  _ to be me. She  _ thought  _ he was me. And it was over — over a bottle of  _ pills.  _ Probably not even a prescription, just —” His voice grew raspy. Rita was familiar with that fierce rush of protectiveness over Mistah Steel, but seeing it reflected all around her was new. Strangely satisfying, too, to see Vespa and Buddy and Jet all looking like they’d like to dig up Miss Sarah Steel to put her back in the ground again. 

These were good people. And they were  _ her _ good people, too. 

Miss Vespa was a surprise, her voice grating with the same sort of aloof  _ I-don’t-care  _ she’d heard a million times over in the office back in Hyperion: “My old man’s a piece of shit. Last I saw he was still alive, but that’s only if he didn’t get his throat slit for lying at a poker game.”

Mistah Steel cocked his head. “At a — oh, right. Ranga.” 

Her gaze snapped to him, eyes narrow. “You play?” She sounded interested. 

“No, but Ransom does.” He jerked a thumb to Mistah Nureyev, who still had an arm around him cause he was  _ so  _ in love with Mistah Steel and it was all  _ so  _ romantic — 

“I’m afraid that I am taking a hiatus,” Mistah Ransom smiled. “Although perhaps a low-stakes game would be enjoyable. The last time I played I very nearly bet away my name, so you can see why I’m a bit wary of picking up a deck again.”   
  
Captain A learned forward, Rita surprised to see her surprised. Hardly anybody took the captain off guard! She seemed to know  _ everything.  _ “Now  _ that _ is unexpected,” she said. 

“Yeah,” Vespa cocked a brow. “What the hell would make you bet  _ that?  _ You planning trying to  _ lie,  _ were you? _ ”  _

“Not at all,” Nureyev said, voice breezy. “But the risk of planetary extinction is quite the motivator.”

“You’ve  _ gotta  _ be kidding me,” Vespa scowled, before Mistah Steel cut in:

“No he’s — it sounds  _ nuts,  _ I know, but he’s telling the truth.” His voice was still all croaky. “That was our… first  _ real  _ job together. When he wasn’t leading me around by the nose.”

“Oh you’re not  _ still  _ mad about that —” 

“In any case, he was hired by a real piece of work named  _ Miasma.  _ She wanted the weapon that caused the Martian extinction, Ransom double-crossed her, and we happened to be on the same side of things. So… we teamed up.” A faint smile curled over his lips. A good memory then. And still, Rita winced. She’d heard…  _ some  _ of this story. The later bits. Mistah Steel always got real quiet about it. 

Mistah Ransom jumped in, nodding, “The retired thief Brock Engstrem had some information we needed, and Rangian Street Poker was just the game to get it. Unfortunately, by then he’d latched onto my…  _ lack  _ of identity, and with our dear detective’s life as collateral, I couldn’t risk a lie. Of course, Juno was able to see through  _ his  _ lies, and we won the day.” 

“You left out the nighttime assassin, stealing the Ruby,  _ and _ getting stuck on a high-speed train with a pair of _ —”  _ He cut off, grimaced, and said, “People who wanted us dead.  __

“Well don’t give it all away at once!” Mistah Nureyev complained. “You’ve just ruined two, maybe  _ three  _ perfectly good stories.” He heaved a sigh. “At least there’s still the details. Honestly,  _ where  _ is your sense of drama?” 

“Well see I was gonna bring my own but everyone else had  _ plenty  _ so I figured I should really just pack something else —”

From there the conversation shifted, tales about childhoods, old jobs, old flames, old scars. None of it sounded happy to Rita, and they laughed at the bitterest parts. 

A lull in the conversation brought a quiet sound, barely noticeable as Mistah Nureyev cleared his throat. “I was… adopted, I suppose,” he said. 

Attention fell to him. Not a single person had expected him to share. Rita’s eyes were wide as she turned to him, where he was nearly hiding himself against Mistah Steel. “My surrogate father, he taught me everything growing up.  _ The number one rule of thieving…”  _ A laugh puffed from his chest, soft and mournful.

His eyes were downcast. “He was going to hurt a lot of people. He believed what he was doing would have been better, in the end, that more lives would be saved, than lost. And maybe they would have.” The energy seemed to drain from him. “I didn’t let him find out.”

Quiet acknowledgement. No one pressed, no one pried. The conversation moved on, Mistah Nureyev going limp as Mistah Steel pressed a kiss to his temple. 

These really were the best folks she’d ever had. 

-

They’re getting away. He can’t throw everything into it just yet, no matter how his Soul screamed for it. The human being is an endurance predator. While they run and exhaust themselves, he has all the knowledge of this prison at his fingertips. Eventually they will have to stop, and then he will have them. He will save them.

_ Good must be spread across the galaxy. To do good: apply THEIA SOUL unit to targets, priority: Rita, Vespa Ilkay, Buddy Aurinko —  _

He had only  _ ever  _ wanted to do good. 

This place is evil. No ships arrive any longer, no way to escape. The others had perished, dehydration taking them before starvation ever could. Once the first of them had a Soul, they’d flourished through the masses, uniting a place of pain and mayhem, and  _ then —  _

Then, nothing. All their good, left to  _ rot.  _

But now  _ he _ is here, and his family is here. And they will be  _ legends.  _ They will save this world,  _ every  _ world, no more crime, no more deaths, no more kids killing parents and parents killing kids. 

He only wishes they could see that. 

“Vespa Ilkay and Jet Sikuliaq,” he calls, “Surrender and submit yourselves to the Soul. We will do  _ so much  _ good together.”

The map is an image in his head. They are in the fourth quadrant of Tartarus. All the traps had been disabled in the name of peace, though now he wishes his predecessors could have seen what would become of them, could have known and used their last, precious moments to set the first brick of a new world. 

So caught up in this dream, he almost fails to realize that the targets have changed course. Before, they had been running for the first available exit but  _ now.  _ Now he sees something strange. The door that is left ajar is well out of the way, and only a few down from another available exit. 

Suspicion roils up inside of him, instinct from a life long gone. The days of that terror were behind him, no fear of betrayals, no shapes in the shadows. But he needs to be cautious all the same.  _ They  _ are still their soulless selves. 

And yet, when he approaches, he finds no trick. He can hear their pounding footsteps. Determination flares in him; they’d lost their headstart trying to make this new strategy. What that tactic is doesn’t matter, only matters that he is  _ moments  _ away from success. 

“Increasing bloodflow…” 

His heart pumpd hard and fast, his legs grow tense, and he _flies._ Legs pounding, freed from the constraints of the body in the name of good as he chases the sound of voices — 

“She said the  _ right hand _ door, Sikuliaq —” 

“Her perspective is opposite to ours, we must use this one — he is coming —” 

A door opens. He rounds the corner to see them bolt through, sees Jet turn to shut it. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, it will all be  _ worth it  _ if he can just get  _ one _ of them. 

He crashes through the opening as the door activates. It snaps around his leg. The bone crunches. 

He screams out, alarms blaring in his ears, a red light in his vision. The pain the  _ pain,  _ for moments it’s all he can think about. And still he cannot stop, even if he loses this leg and even if he  _ dies,  _ he still pushes himself upright, his glowering eyes finding the doctor. 

“It’s  _ snapped,”  _ Vespa gasps, disgust and awe in her voice. She takes a step back. “He shouldn’t be able to —”

Jet’s hand flies to his earpiece,  _ “Rita,  _ he is in here with us,  _ where do we —”  _

He lunges. Jet takes several shots, and he can’t be certain if Jet wouldn’t shoot to kill. But Jet  _ does _ care for Vespa, and so long as he stays on her, Jet cannot take that risk. 

She brandishes her knife as he comes at her, but he knows  _ well  _ how to duck around that. She swings for his fingers and he twists to let the blade sink into his arm. The pain does not make him falter this time. 

Her back hits a wall. The Soul was in his grasp, all he had to do was reach out and — 

From behind, a shout: “Vespa, duck!”

She hits the ground. A shot cracks out, and he dives out of the way just as it burst against the wall. The knife dislodges from his arm, clattering to the ground.  _ Heavy bleeding, cauterize immediately — too much time, apply Theia SOUL to target at any cost, do the greatest good —  _

The words halt in his mouth as he eyes the newcomer. With his Soul’s permission, a piece of his old self slides back into place, putting a smile on his lips, a purr in his voice. 

“Hello, Juno.”

-

Buddy had a diagram on the screen: a moon, far larger than the ones Mars knew. She motioned to it, uneven edges that rose and fell like inverted ziggurats and towers that stood above it all. “Our contact is locked in Tartarus,” she announced. “As I’m sure you can predict, our next mission is to break them out.” 

Juno squinted at it, asking, “Is this supposed to make sense? The whole goddamn place is giving me a headache.” The entire thing had been drilled into and rebuilt, more metal and tech than  _ moon. _ Nureyev’s eyes were raking over it, already committing the winding floor plans to memory. 

“That is the point,” Jet informed him. 

Buddy nodded. “Jet is right. Tartarus is… in the public eye, a  _ humane _ alternative to incarceration. Rather than keep them locked up in cells for all their lives, they stick them in an impossible-to-navigate labyrinth and let them live out the rest of their silly little lives on stream for viewers to witness. Various rooms have different puzzles and obstacles set up, which are recalibrated on a schedule.”

“Like Hoosegow,” Juno said, as Nureyev frowned, “Like enrichment for rats.” 

Buddy nodded at them both. “Of course, it’s all just a cover for some cheap-to-produce media and psychological experimentation! In here, entire small communities have formed as people wage turf wars against both opposing factions and the environment itself. Very good, if morally reprehensible entertainment. Well, up until recently, at least.”

“It went dark,” Nureyev noted. 

“Indeed. Some new experiment, allegedly. They took it off air as a part of a nondisclosure agreement. There have been no recorded shipments in or out of Tartarus since then, no new inmates, and no known communication. It _is_ supposed to be near-completely isolated from the rest of the galaxy, and yet…” 

It was weird. They all knew it was weird. 

“Now, I have the schematics here. While the various sectors are shuffled to ensure no one can map the place, Rita and I should be able to guide you from the Ruby 7, which we will be taking into a blindspot in Tartarus’ security feeds.”

“Shouldn’t you be remaining beyond the moon entirely?” Nureyev asked. 

“Ideally, we would, but I’m afraid the artificial atmosphere of Tartarus won’t allow it. We will have to be beneath its shield to communicate with you all.”

Juno spaced through the rest of the meeting. His role was rarely more than an extra gun for backup. While Buddy discussed the known security detail, Juno found himself staring into that hologram. A 3D maze, chunks of it detaching and shuffling around one another. There was something disturbingly organic about all that tech, how it moved like a living, breathing thing, bones dislocating from their sockets and winding around the larger whole. 

He didn’t sleep well that night. But, come morning, they were all crammed into the Ruby and dressed for the occasion. Rita opened a gap in the shields, and they dove through. 

Juno had seen a few good lunar civilizations. This wasn’t one of them. The sight was that much worse in person. The lines of the maze looked like gouges in a surface parasitized by steel. It was dead. A corpse encased in a chassis, no movement upon the surface, no shipping freights or tiny people marching along below. Juno rubbed his arms, looking away as nausea twisted in his gut. 

Watch towers loomed on the horizon like great arms, stretching up to a galaxy they’d been denied. They came to a halt in a well-sheltered crater, where they spilled out of the Ruby to hoist themselves over the edge and onto the encased surface of Tartarus. 

Standing there, without the ship or the car acting as a barrier between him and this moon, Juno felt exposed. The others looked no better off, flocking together as they made their way south. 

Over the feed, Buddy was speaking:  _ “You should come upon a plate, soon. That’s where they deliver their water shipments. If things have remained as scheduled, then you won’t be wading through much.” _

“Just poisoning their water supply,” Juno scoffed. 

“It should be filtered before they actually drink it,” Nureyev pointed out.

“Yeah, I know but —”

“We are here.” Jet motioned to it, a circular plate with indentations on four sides. “Buddy, we will be descending shortly.”

_ “Good work. Ransom, are you ready?”  _

“Yes, Captain. I’ll be memorizing the route we take so I can deploy the comms jammer once we have our contact safe. From there we should be able to simply retrace our steps to where you and Rita are waiting.” 

_ “Excellent. Once you’re inside, keep walking until you find a service hatch. That will be your way into the facility itself.” _

They set to work, lifting the handles of the plate and twisting. Juno had to throw all his weight into it — even the big guy seemed to be having trouble. “The damn thing’s stuck,” he grunted.

Jet  _ heaved.  _ The panel gave way at last, letting them hoist it up and away. It opened up to a downward tube, which Nureyev tossed a rope through for them to descend one by one. 

When Juno’s feet hit the ground, the metal surface was barely damp. A puddle of stagnant water splashed under his boots, making him frown. Nuryev and Jet were already beginning to pick their way down, while Vespa dropped in behind him. “Hey,” Juno called, voice bouncing off the walls, “isn’t this, like, weird?”

“How so?” Nureyev hummed. “I’m assuming we’re overlooking the weirdness of this entire  _ moon?”  _

“Well, it’s kind of, you know. Dry? Buddy, you said we’d be  _ wading,  _ right?” 

_ “That  _ should  _ be the case. They get water shipments every two weeks, and the next is due in three days. It should be low, but not empty.”  _

“So what’s this, then?” He switched on his video feed, letting her see through the goggles he wore. 

_ “That’s… certainly unusual. But we knew something was going wrong.” _

“Water though,” Vespa muttered. “That’s  _ weird.  _ That’s real weird, Bud.” 

_ “... It is, yes. Be on your guard. Rita and I will remain at the drop point.”  _

They continued through the tunnel. Buddy pointed out the hatch they were meant to climb through, Jet hoisting Nureyev up onto his shoulders to swing the hatch open. They climbed up one by one, into a claustrophobic room stacked with shelves and tools. 

“I’ll make sure the way is clear,” Nureyev told them, moving for the door. He paused, listening for a moment before cracking it open and slipping through. 

His footsteps receded. Then, a gasp, sharp and strangled. 

They tensed. Buddy’s voice buzzed through his earpiece:  _ “Ransom? You don’t have a video feed, tell me what’s going on.”  _

Nureyev whispered through his comms: _ “I… I, ah… well. Captain, there are… a lot of dead bodies.”  _

Juno’s stomach dropped. He locked eyes with Jet, both of them shifting for the door. Vespa went first, quietest of the three of them, followed by Juno with him backed by Jet. They rounded the corner to find Nureyev kneeling on the ground in a corridor stacked with corpses. 

It looked like several hundred people had all lined up against opposite walls, sat down, and waited to die. And they _were_ dead, cearly, the smell alone told him that. Juno raised a hand to his mouth, nausea rising in his throat as a clinging burn. Even Jet looked disturbed, his usual stoic countenance twisted in horror. 

“All of them,” Nureyev gasped. “Every last one. No blood, no wounds, they just.  _ Died.”  _

Vespa cursed, and suddenly Juno was yanked back by the collar. “All of you get away from them  _ now! _ We don’t know what killed them. They could be carrying something.”

“No, no,” Nureyev breathed. “I think… the water. They were out of water. They died of dehydration.”

Juno shook. “Was  _ this  _ why it went dark? What the  _ hell  _ was the experiment — how long until people realized they just  _ executed  _ an entire moon’s population?” 

“Ransom, get  _ back,”  _ Vespa growled. “Seriously, this isn’t normal behavior. We’re retreating,  _ now,  _ and  _ everyone’s  _ going into a goddamn  _ quarantine  _ until we know exactly what’s going on.”

_ “Listen to Vespa, Ransom,”  _ Buddy said.  _ “The mission isn’t worth this. I want everybody to return to the Carte Blanche immediately.”  _

“Hold on — there’s something here,” Nureyev murmured, leaning in close to one corpse. He lifted a hand, reaching to touch. “It’s like some kind of a chip.” 

Ice water poured down Juno’s back.  _ “Don’t touch that!”  _

-

_ “Don’t —!”  _

A gasp crackled over the feed. Buddy leaned in towards the screen. She could see through Juno’s goggles, see Ransom standing upright and frowning at him, face wary, guarded. 

_ “Juno,” _ he breathed. Confused. Hurt. 

Buddy locked eyes with Rita. “Vespa, what’s going on?”

The response came out quiet, like she didn’t believe the words as they came out of her mouth:  _ “Steel pulled a gun on Ransom.”  _

It didn’t make sense. Individually, every word had a meaning, but put together it formed an impossible image. Buddy sucked in a breath to catch her voice, holding her tablet like it would do a goddamn  _ thing  _ when she was here and her  _ family  _ was stuck in that maze. “Juno, explain yourself.  _ Juno!”  _

All that came through was panting, his breath short and ragged. Jet muttered,  _ “Buddy, I am not —“  _

_ “Captain.”  _ Ransom’s voice.  _ “I… would like to request your advice in this situation —“  _

_ “Hey you wanna shut up?”  _ Juno snarled. 

_ “Steel,”  _ Vespa breathed.  _ “The hell’s gotten into you?”  _

Ransom,  _ “Yes, Juno, what  _ has  _ gotten into you? Why don’t you just —“  _

A shot fired. Jet and Vespa shouted. Buddy covered her mouth, heart pounding, errors ringing in her ears — skipped best, premature contraction — 

_ “Juno did not hit Ransom,”  _ Jet explained, voice hushed, just a hint of a quaver.  _ “It was a warning shot. Juno, please —“  _

_ “Get away from them.”  _ Juno sounded furious. He sounded  _ scared.  _

Rita fumbled for her mic. “Mistah Steel you’re scaring everyone, can you please please  _ please _ tell us what’s —“ 

_ “Rita, there’s a THEIA on Ransom.” _

Buddy looked to her, desperate to think  _ someone  _ understood what was going on. And it seemed she did, her face gone ashen, hands clapped over her mouth before she cried out, “Miss Vespa Mistah Jet you gotta trust Mistah Steel —“ 

Ransom lurched towards Juno. The feed blurred as Juno backed up, fired one, two, three shots, a fourth from Jet as he picked his side and followed Rita’s cry. 

Vespa spun into Juno’s view as he came to a jarring stop, Ransom standing between the three of them. Vespa pulled her knife, brandishing it in his direction.

Ransom slumped.  _ “Please, Vespa, I was only defending myself —“  _

_ “Of all the  _ dirtbag  _ things to do, Ransom, even  _ I _ didn’t expect —“  _

Juno called,  _ “It’s not him, Vespa! It’s that goddamn chip in his hand. Rita, we need help.”  _

She jumped and returned to her computer, eyes wide. “I’ve still got my old code, Mistah Steel, I can send it to you and then you just gotta have him to sit still long enough for it to work.”

Ransom turned over a shoulder, his face looking almost  _ mournful _ .  _ “I did  _ try _ to be pleasant,”  _ he sighed, voice underlaid with something dangerous, something inhuman. Then he sprang. 

Juno fired. Ransom hit the ground in a heap, and Juno tossed his head to bark,  _ “Go, run!”  _

_ “But, Steel he’s —“  _

_ “The stun’s not gonna last us and he’s got another one of those chips for  _ us. _ We  _ need  _ to run.”  _

_ “Understood. Rita?”  _ Jet prompted her.

Rita gulped, “You’re — you’re running up on a quadrant shift right now. Run through that door and, um… um…” 

Buddy followed her finger, tracing through the schematics. “You’ll pass five lefthand corridors. On the fifth, take it.” 

“R-right! And then, the, um, third door on the right.” 

_ “Got it.”  _ Juno breathed and for a second, it seemed okay. Like things had gone terribly, terribly wrong, but her family would be alright. 

And then, though alone in the room as her family fled, Ransom spoke:  _ “We are going to do the greatest good together.”  _

That sound from before was clear now: a mechanical tone, buzzing white noise under each word.  _ “I will be seeing you soon, Captain Aurinko,”  _ he promised. 

She watched as all four lines went dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: References to past drug use/abuse, Mild descriptions of gore, Mind Control 
> 
> \--------
> 
> Well this was self indulgent! I can be found at Grimmseye on tumblr and twitter if you wanna chat <3
> 
> I'm being a bit experimental with this one so kinda wary of posting, so please do let me know what you think!


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